


Midnight Musings

by MuddlingAlong



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Post-Coital, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddlingAlong/pseuds/MuddlingAlong
Summary: A sad little peek into Charity's head after an evening with Vanessa, maybe with a few happy little resolutions





	Midnight Musings

Vanessa has rolled over away from Charity, curled away on the other side of the bed, the sheets rumpled round her waist. Charity gazes at her, feeling the distance between them like a physical ache but waving away the feeling, lets her eyes drift through her hair lying ruffled across the pillow. The curves of her shoulders, all tension released in dreams, the soft sweep of her spine dipping into the white of the sheets, the smatterings of freckles rising and falling in time with the gentle lull of her breath.

_I want to learn this by heart. Every line, every curve, every scar, every note._

Aware of this thought and simultaneously excited and terrified of it, Charity turns over onto her back, staring at the ceiling as if she were trying to memorise the blank white space instead of the minute details of Vanessa’s back. 

How many times has she lain here, in this exact spot, staring at this exact ceiling, without another slumbering human taking up three quarters of the duvet, loneliness echoing deep in her bones? How many times has she wished that someone else, anyone else could be just a stretch away? How many times has she curled up, feeling her own shirt against her own skin and wetness on her cheeks, knowing deep down that no one could ever love her enough to stay until morning, morning after morning after morning? Knowing, deep down in that hole in her soul that she skirts around every day, that she doesn’t deserve love.

And yet. Here she is now, with a person who is sleeping in her bed for the third night in as many days, who has spent the evening listening and laughing and leaning in, who makes her feel seen, who can wade through all the taunting bullshit and see a glimpse of something that most people don’t want to see. Someone she respects, and someone who respects her. Someone she doesn’t have to put on a front for. This is all she ever wanted during those long, lonely nights.

This is not Cain. This is not Jai. This is not Chris. This is not Declan or Ross or Tom or Michael or Frank.

This is Vanessa. A woman, _which was sort of a shock at first but then also, no, it really wasn’t a shock at all_ , a vet for Christ’s sake, not a millionaire or a scammer. Someone who heals for a living. 

 

Vanessa mumbles in her sleep and rolls over to face Charity, who looks over, watches the sheets fall away, modesty forgotten. Her face is soft, worries released in slumber, a dreamy smile caught in her lips, the hair around her temple still slightly stuck to her face after the evening’s exertion. 

 

Charity had forgotten, after Zoe, how different it was, being with a woman. Yes, there had been- escapades- in prison, but three minutes propped up against the cistern with the threat of a prison guard bursting in couldn’t really compare.

She’d forgotten how slow it could be. How small it could be, how the gentlest brush of fingers could set something in motion, something deep inside her, swelling and smouldering, insatiable. And how they could spend hours in the glorious build up, items of clothing removed languidly one at a time, pressure increasing in increments, feeling their rhythm surge and fall. And how, when things did get too much, it suddenly became absolutely imperative to pull her closer, to feel hot skin against her tongue, to feel her pulse on her hand. It could be slow and sensual, yes, until the moment when it wasn’t, and then it was needy, teeth and nails as well as lips and fingertips.

Really, she’d forgotten how it all felt so inevitable, the almost slow motion tipping over the edge, that falling-whilst-flying feeling. Feeling like no matter how close they were, they could never be close enough. 

 

She looks over at Vanessa again, who must be having one hell of a dream, because she’s turned away again. 

Never, with any of her partners, has she been one for cuddling after sex. Although if she’s honest, it always used to be the other person who pulled away. Vanessa likes to tangle their sweaty limbs together and feel her snores against her skin, but Charity has always pulled away. But tonight there’s a need to be close to Vanessa like she’s never felt before. This need that simultaneously excites and terrifies her.

Maybe, if she just breathes deep and slow, lets go of the angst, stretches out…

Her body fits round Vanessa’s comfortably, her hand smoothing over her hip before it settles against the warmth of her belly. She kisses her shoulder softly so as not to wake her up, and nestles her nose into the crook at the back of her neck, settling into breathing her in. Vanessa instinctively presses herself back into Charity, pushing them closer together, the contact tugging at something low and deep.

She is so patient. She is so peaceful. 

This is so whole.

Maybe,

_Maybe I do deserve this._


End file.
